The Chosen One (12 page)

“I can go alone,” I say. “It’s not that far.”

“Kyra,” he says. His voice is sharp.

His house is beautiful. The kitchen has five refrigerators. The granite countertops gleam. There are windows everywhere. The house is silent, though I know people must be here. Where is everyone?

We walk past a living room that has pale green carpet in it. A huge fireplace takes up one wall.

“This is how an Apostle lives,” Uncle Hyrum says. “God does bless the righteous. And those who are saved and chosen for them.”

I say nothing.

Out the door we go. It’s late evening, and the sky is heavy with low clouds. Uncle Hyrum turns and points to a bay window on the second floor. “That’s our wedding room, Kyra,” he says and tries to take my hand again.

“Oh,” I say. I quicken my step, avoiding him, and head toward home.

“Take it slow,” Uncle Hyrum says. “We have plenty of time.” He grabs my arm, links us together.

I fight the urge to run screaming all the way to my family. I can’t see the world around me, I feel so sick. I trip once, and Uncle Hyrum keeps me from falling flat on my face. “A little klutzy, are you? Well, it’s a good thing I’m here.”

He clears his throat. “There’s no need to be scared of me, Kyra. I’m a good husband. I’ll keep real good care of you. You’ll have the nicest things.”

“Okay,” I say. My heart feels like it’s trying to escape.

“Good.” In the light of the Temple, I see Uncle Hyrum smile. There
must
be something good about him. There
must
. Look how Aunt Melissa seems to love him.

“I take real excellent care of my wives,” Uncle Hyrum says when we get to my front porch. He pulls me close to him. His arms are like steel rods. “I’m gentle with the new ones.”

“What are you doing?” I say. Fear rises right up my throat.

“No use in fighting me, Kyra,” Uncle Hyrum says, breathing potato breath on me. “No matter what, I’ll get my way.”

I struggle. His arms tighten. He’s a head taller than me. And much too close. This is not a thing what it feels like when Joshua holds me near.

“It’s God’s law that I have you.”

“No,” I say. “Mother! Not now. Not yet.”

“Kiss me good night.”

“No!” I push hard against Uncle Hyrum.

Then Father is there.

“You’re not married to her yet, Hyrum,” he says and reaches his hand to me.

My uncle releases his hold, straightens his shirt. “Fighting won’t do anything but make it worse. Fighting won’t do anything but make it harder. Tell her that, Richard.”

WAS FATHER THAT WAY
to my mother the first night he slept with her? Did he force his love on her? Did she fight him?

Oh, how am I ever going to do this?

WHEN EVERYONE IS ASLEEP
, I drop to my knees and claw under the bed. My fingertips feel greasy and no matter how many times I wash them I can’t lose the feeling. It’s like the chicken is stuck there and will never go away.

There’s a backpack under my bed, an old orange one. I’m going to pack it up with stuff and I’m leaving. If Joshua’s talk with the Prophet didn’t work out, I’m leaving.

Bill did it.

I can, too.

“Kyra?” Laura leans up in bed.

“What?” I don’t mean to be so loud, but she’s scared me. There it is! I’ve found the backpack.

Laura peers over at me. “How was it?”

For a moment I think of Uncle Hyrum walking me to our front door. Of Father . . . Father rescuing me.

“Awful,” I say. My voice is a whisper. “Worse than anything you can think.” I’m still on my knees. I wipe my fingers on the sheet.

“Why?”

I can see my sister, my best friend, leaning toward me. Her hair is loose and has fallen over her shoulders. I love her so much I’d do just about anything to save her. Gazing at my sister, with just the hall night-light coming into our room, words spin through my head.

Why are we here? How did we get here? How do we get out of here?

What have our father and mother done to us?

It’s this last sentence that sticks right in my lungs. After a minute, I climb up next to Laura.

“Roll over,” I say, “and I’ll scrooch up next to your back.”

She does. I slip my arms around her. She’s warm and thin and bony. She’s just a baby. When will
she
have to get married?

“What happened?” she asks.

I can’t answer right away. Then I pull in a deep breath. “When he tried to kiss me good night, I put my hands up.”

“He tried to kiss you?”

“I wouldn’t let him.”

Now Laura says, “I wouldn’t let him kiss me, either, if you want to know.”

We say nothing. Outside a steady wind blows across the desert. I can smell the shampoo in Laura’s hair. I can smell my own sweat.

“I’ve been thinking,” Laura says. She lowers her voice. “I don’t want to marry an old man either. Especially if he was my uncle.” She pauses. “If we could, I’d choose for myself.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, then nod and say, “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

Sisters, I know, are supposed to be together till the end. I press my lips to the back of Laura’s head in a kiss good night. I try to sleep.

I REMEMBER HOLDING LAURA
. Mother’s telling me the story keeps the memory alive, like it is my own. We were both so small. Mother sat near us, helping me support this new baby’s head. Someone snapped a picture of us, the three of us together.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” my mother said. Her voice was sweet against the side of my face.

“No,” I said.

And Laura wasn’t. Her face was red and squishy. Her hands curled up into fists. When she opened her eyes, there was no color at all.

Mother Sarah laughed. “Oh, Kyra,” she said.

_________

I DON
’
T WANT
to leave my family
.

This is the first thing I think when I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling the next morning.

I don’t want to leave my family
.

This is the first thing I think at breakfast.

Carolina is grumpy. But when she sees me she comes running straight into my arms. I kiss her face over and over.

Margaret hums something from church. She dances a bit as she sets the table. Then she hugs me tight, too.

Laura stares, like she wants to pat away my sadness the way she does with all Father’s babies.

I don’t want to leave my family
.

Maybe I will never think anything else.

I have no choice. In less than a month, I leave this home to join with Uncle Hyrum’s family. In less than a month, I’ll never sleep beside my sister again.

But if I run . . .

Mother and Father are in their room. I can hear them talking. What is he telling her?

The house smells of oatmeal with brown sugar sprinkled on it. The room is cool from night. The early morning sun has colored the sky in the east a pale blue.

I want to scream. I want to scream and run to Prophet Childs. I want to tell him, “Leave me with my family. Leave me with my mother and my sisters. Leave me home.”

But what would he say?

God’s will be done.

That’s it.

I know it.

HOW CAN I
go to Uncle Hyrum?

Kiss his greasy lips?

Taste the chicken?

Let his hands touch my body?

There is so little time left for me.

How can I do this?

I’ve got to get away.

AFTER BREAKFAST
, I pull out the sewing machine. We clear the table and set up there. “Let’s cut out the pattern in the living room,” Mother says. She folds the fabric in half, lays it on the floor.

I think of the beautiful green carpet in Uncle Hyrum’s house. Here, the carpet is old and so worn at the front door and near the bedroom doors that you can almost see to the pad below.

“Do we have to do this today?” I ask.

“Just the cutting,” Mother says. Then she puts her arms around me. And without a word, all three of my sisters fall into the hug, too.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mother says. Her voice is like a prayer. The baby in her belly gives me a kick.

“I don’t want Kyra to leave,” Margaret says.

“Me either,” says Carolina and she bursts into loud tears.

“Me either,” says Laura.

There’s a knock at the door. Mother wipes at her face with the back of her hand and goes to answer it.

It’s Sheriff Felix.

“What?” I say. My first thought is Patrick. But he can’t be out there now. He won’t be back for days.

My second thought is Josh. I don’t move.

“Kyra Leigh. The Prophet wants to see you.”

“Now?” I say.

He nods.

“Whatever for?” Mother says. “And why so early in the morning?”

Sheriff Felix ignores her.

“Let me change,” I say.

“No,” he says. “Come now. As you are.”

I hurry to the door. Mother does, too.

“I’ll take her, Sister,” the sheriff says.

“I’m coming, too,” Mother says. “I need to know what’s happening with my daughter.” Mother’s face has grown pale.

“The Prophet has asked for Sister Kyra. Alone.”

“Get your father,” Mother says to Laura, who doesn’t even ask why, just runs out the back door.

Mother hugs me again, as I walk away from home and into the morning. It’s cool outside. The sky is a thin blue. We only have two blocks, if that, to go. But my knees shake so, I don’t think I can make it.

“Why does he want me?” I ask Sheriff Felix.

Was it because I wouldn’t kiss Uncle Hyrum? Did he
tattle
on me? Can the Prophet decide who I kiss before I marry?

The thought turns me cold, inside and out. By the time we get to the Temple, I’m shaking all over.

I
’
VE NEVER BEEN
in the upper rooms of the Temple before, except once on a dare. And the God Squad chased me out. Now, I wait in the front room.

Through the huge plate-glass windows I can see everything. Our whole Compound. The Prophet’s and Apostles’ homes scattered farther out. The home where I will live when I marry Uncle Hyrum. The lush green of their lawns. And past that to the trailers where all of The Chosen Ones live. I can imagine seeing my home if I close my eyes.

A door swings open.

“Sister Kyra.”

It’s Uncle Hyrum.

It feels like my lungs leap into my throat. I can’t even breathe. Can barely nod at him. My feet have stopped working. My heart, though, is beating double time. Maybe like a hummingbird’s.

For a brief second I remember reading the hummingbird book while sitting on the floor of the Ironton County Mobile Library on Wheels. I can feel my legs tucked under me as I turn the pages and see the ruby-throated hummingbird for the first time.

“Prophet Childs will see you.”

Uncle Hyrum’s tone is that of ice.

Somehow I follow him. Down a hall we go. Portraits hang on the walls. Portraits of Jesus and Prophet Childs’s father and the Prophet before him and the one before him. There’s a painting of Prophet Childs himself, standing on the right hand of Jesus. They’re smiling at each other.

The carpet is thick under my feet. The hall is air-conditioned so low that I rub my arms to smooth down the goose bumps. Mother would feel comfortable in a place like this. She wouldn’t be so hot.

“In here,” Uncle Hyrum says.

The room is huge. A whole wall of windows look out on the Temple. There are three computers. Two walls of books. A huge television. Dark green carpet. A desk so large I could sleep on it with Laura
and
Carolina.

Prophet Childs stands next to the window, gazing at the Compound. His hands are clasped behind himself. He rocks on his feet in his shiny shoes.

Standing near the back wall are Brother Laramie and Brother Nelson, two members of the God Squad. And in a chair is Joshua. My Joshua.

“
WHO ELSE DO YOU LIKE
?” I asked Joshua one late night. The moon was a sliver, hanging low in the sky like it was caught in a fall.

“What?” Joshua’s voice was hushed.

We’d finished
Harry Potter
and I wanted to play with magic. I was sure I would be good at it.

“What other girl do you like?”

I turned to him. I could just see the outline of his face. If we moved just a few inches to the left we’d be in the false light of the Temple spire.

“That’s out of the blue,” Joshua said. He held the book on his lap.

“I know,” I said.

“Why are you asking?” Joshua shifted until his head rested on my shoulder. I could see his tennis shoe. A bit of one sock.

“You have to have three wives to get into heaven,” I said. “You know that. Do you have two other choices?”

Am I worth going to hell for?
I thought, but I didn’t say the words. Because what if I would go to hell for Joshua but he wouldn’t for me?

He was quiet.

“You have to be with three women. Kiss them. Love them.” I made my voice all singsongy though my words made me feel jealous and itchy inside. “Have babies with them.”

The darkness made me powerful. Or was it
Harry Potter
? Had magic seeped from the book into me, making me stronger? Less afraid? Bold enough to say these words to Joshua?

“I know what they say,” Joshua said.

I lowered my voice. “Do you believe it?”

He shrugged. I felt his shoulders lift and settle again. The movement caused the smell of soap to float toward me.

“Do you ever think about it?”

He shrugged a second time. Again that smell.

“I don’t think of other girls,” Joshua said. “I don’t think of having three wives. I think of you.”

I clamped my mouth shut in case the magic made me tell that I was sure I loved him.

“Kyra,” he said after a long moment. “I choose you. Only.”

I ALMOST CRY OUT
when I see Joshua. His face is a mess. They’ve beat him good.